Bears On Unicycles
by Pieequals36
Summary: A series of one shots centered around Sam/Freddie moments.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I'm still working on Misguided Ghosts, but I think when you're writing something a bit darker you need a little fluffy outlet. This will be a short little series of vignettes. No real plot just a series of moments between Sam and Freddie as they get older. As with all my fiction there'll be a lil music quote at the start. Read and review - tell me if you think I'm going wrong. _

"**Are you still beautiful in Los Angeles? When it's been so long, I can't handle it. Will it really make any difference? Cos I'm so far away. Will we ever change?" – Beautiful Los Angeles, Garrison Starr. **

"What's taking her so long?" Freddie huffed. Carly glanced over at her impatient neighbour, pacing the space at the elevator. He looked adorable in his black tux paired with dark converse. He kept messing his hair with his hand and it was driving Carly crazy.

"Beauty takes time," she stated simply, flicking another page of 17.

"Beauty? Sam? Jesus we'll be here until New Years," he muttered, flopping down on the stool opposite her. Carly looked up, arching her eyebrows disapprovingly.

"Hey, she's doing you a favour Freddie, be nice," she said, frowning as he messed with his hair again. "Ok stop that."

She batted his hand away with her own and ran her slim fingers along his scalp, fluffing it out. God he loved the feeling. Carly was perhaps the only girl that could turn him to goo, simply by running her fingers through his hair. He loved how her lips twisted into a thoughtful pout as she evaluated his new style. He loved how she smiled when she finally had him looking how she wanted. She met his glazed eyes and let out a nervous giggle.

"What?"

"Remind me why you couldn't do this again."

"Cos I have a huge Biology test tomorrow morning, and you know how I get the night before an exam," she told him, turning to the fridge. He followed her over, leaning on the counter, and watching as her head disappeared inside.

"But you'll pass, you know you'll pass. And you know all Sam will do is punch me and spit in my dinner. And I really don't think Grandma is going to like that," he grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I've asked Sam to be on her best behaviour, and she promised me she will be," Carly assured him, emerging with two Peppy colas. He squinted at her, considering something.

"What else did you promise her?"

"Huh?" she asked, clearly avoiding his question.

"C'mon Carly, tell."

"I've promised her that you'll do her laundry for a month."

"Carly!" he gasped, exasperated.

"Freddie," she repeated, her pink tongue darting out.

"Why can't her Mom do her laundry?"

"I dunno, something about Fluffy doing something icky in the washing machine."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he sighed, taking a long swig of the soda, "Got anything stronger?"

"No drinking," Carly chastised, "You got my best friend on board, and I expect her to come back in one piece."

"Can you make sure I come back in one piece?"

Carly smiled again and gently rolled her eyes. "I know you love her deep down."

Before he could even try a snappy comeback Sam's voice cut through the apartment, a high squeal that terrified him down to his core.

"Right. I'm coming down. But FYI, I ain't happy about this dress!" she screamed.

"Sam, just come down," Carly replied, going to stand by the stairwell.

"What the hell have you done to my hair? And why are my underarms stinging?" she called backed. Carly glanced nervously at Freddie, who was nearly ready to give up on the night completely.

"It's called an underarm wax Sam, it'll only sting for a little while," she said, maintaining the fakest smile Freddie had ever seen.

"And the hair?"

"Called hairpins, now come down. I wanna see you."

"Ok ok," Sam muttered, defeated. Freddie could hear her from the kitchen, plodding down the staircase. He was pretty sure her heels where about to go through Carly's wooden floor.

"Oh my God Sam!" Carly smiled, clapping her hands with glee. "You look so pretty."

"I feel like a girl," Sam stated flatly.

"Let's ask Freddie," Carly grinned, turning to the boy in her kitchen, "What do you think?"

He turned, slowly and reluctantly, trying in his head to make up nice things to say to the blonde terror. _Stunning, beautiful, magnificent...._But when he finally laid eyes on Samantha Puckett the words flew away, and he stood slack jawed, eyes wide.

"Well?" She sounded nervous. Sam was never ever nervous. It was a take it or leave it thing. He let his gaze sweep from her head to her feet. Her hair was clipped back, curls loosely framing her face. And Carly had managed to squeeze her into a slim black dress that showed just how much she'd grown up in the past three years. And for some reason, still unknown, he gulped at the long expanse of skin showing from her neck to her dipping cleavage. "Oi Perv," she scolded, snapping her fingers in his face, "Wanna stop staring at the ladies?"

"What?" he snorted, waving it off. "I wasn't staring."

"Uh....huh," Sam finished slowly, nervously tugging the fabric of her dress. "So are we gonna do this chiz or what?"

"Yeah," he nodded, confused with lack of direction. He walked back into the kitchen and then out, then scratched the back of his head. Carly smiled, charmed.

"Looking for your keys?" she asked, holding them out.

"Yup, ready Sam?"

"No but does it matter?"

Carly gently nudged her friends towards the front door, but stopped them suddenly with her finger and disappeared to find her camera.

"You scrub up well Puckett," Freddie leaned in, whispering.

"Yeah? Don't get used to it. I'm wearing panties that give me a permanent wedgie, I have gunk on my face, and my hairs tight. This isn't something that'll happen often."

She kept rambling, but for some odd reason Freddie's brain stuck with the permanent wedgie reference.

"Right, smile you two!" Carly instructed, snapping Freddie out of his hormonal haze. He blamed the over powering perfume emulating from Sam. Both forced cheesy grins, Sam making bunny ears behind Freddie's head. They then left; Freddie with his hand on Sam's back, guiding her out of the apartment. Carly quietly followed them out to the hallway, smiling as they left.

"Dorkface, if you want to keep that hand, you'll move it," Carly heard Sam warn Freddie as they disappeared around the corner. Carly decided to stay up for them coming back – just to make sure Freddie was still alive when they did.


	2. In Which Freddie Becomes A Prince

A/N: Let me know if you like this. It doesn't seem to be going down that well so I may just stop and continue with Misguided Ghosts. x

**"Romeo save me I've been feeling so alone._" _**

Freddie Benson walked into a bar near Carly's apartment block. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his black coat, his head down. There were two reasons for his attempt at laying low: a) he was underage and should not have been there and b) bars kind of frightened him. The drunken loutishness of it all wasn't really appealing. However the glowing pub was actually quite busy with people, dispersed to different areas. Some crowded on the dance floor, others in booths by the side, and some perched themselves up at the bar. Unsurprisingly this was where he found Samantha Puckett, sitting on a stool, giving her rendition of "Don't Cha" to the barman and anyone else who was willing to listen. Which just happened to be a crowd of much older men. Freddie liked to call them perverts. They chuckled as she forgot the words, and she looked mildly offended.

"Like to see you do any better!" she challenged, jutting out her chin and pouting her full red lips.

"We prefer to watch you darlin'," one man replied, grinning at his friend. Freddie didn't like how they looked at her. And it unnerved him more that the girl they were looking at was barely 16. He pushed his way through the crowd and stood behind her, gently tapping her shoulder. She swivelled around and grinned brightly when their eyes met.

"Freddo!"

"Hey Sam," he replied, glancing at the patrons around them, "Barman called. Said you might need a ride home."

"Pfft, I'm fine!" she said as she turned and threw the barman a withering glance. He retreated to the other end of the bar and Freddie couldn't really blame him. Sam scared the crap out of most people. "Why'd he call _you_ anyway? Why not Carly?"

"Because this week you have decided to play a particularly amusing game of, 'how many abusive texts can I send Freddie in one day'. He probably thinks we're in some sort of odd S&M relationship...." he dragged off and the words hung between them, Sam's reaction being to scrunch up her nose at the image. "Anyway," he continued after a length pause, "Did you think I relished the idea of having to come down here and give your drunk-ass a ride home? Especially at the risk of my Mom finding out?"

She snorted and raised the shot glass to her lips, downing whatever brownish liquid remained. "Well don't you worry your pretty little head, Fredward. Just you scurry back off to Mamma. I'm all good here." Her lips felt pleasantly numb from all the alcohol she had consumed that evening; her head buzzed and her legs felt a lot like Jello.

"Fine, whatever," he sighed defeated, noticing her spectators retreat, "Give me her phone."

The bartender tossed him the slim Pear cellphone and in a move that would make James Dean jealous Freddie caught it with one hand and began scrolling through her contacts.

"What do you think you're doing Dorkface?" she said, squinting down at his hand.

"Calling my mother."

"What? Why?" she asked, startled by his revelation.

"To come down here and sort you out. There's no point calling your Mom, she might just actually come here to join in."

Sam lunged forward, grappling for her phone. It was easy to fend the drunk, uncoordinated girl off with one hand, and she grasped his arm, pleading with him not to. "No please Benson, I'll be good. I don't wanna join a nunnery."

"And you'll come without fuss?"

"Promise," she nodded over-emphatically, blinking like an owl. "Just one more beer?"

She took his pause as a yes and ordered one more from the barman. Shockingly, he was still willing to serve her and slid a cold beer bottle down the bar. She caught it expertly and took a long swig from the nozzle. Her lips curled around the rim, her pink tongue darting out and licking a runaway drop of beer down the bottle. Freddie felt a blush up the back of his neck. She caught him staring, and arched one eyebrow, before finally gulping down the liquid.

"What you staring at nub?" she quizzed, glancing down at the bottle, "Want some?"

He choked, then coughed then finally managed a strangled no. She shrugged.

"Whatev's."

She was staring into space and Freddie found it slightly unnerving. He didn't realise Sam would be such a gentle pensive drunk. He thought alcohol would simply make her more vicious.

"Time to go Sam," he leaned in and whispered in her ear. The sudden feel of warm breath on her ear made Sam tremble, and she was almost a little afraid of turning to face the boy to her side. "Sam," he repeated, his fingers curling around the bottle in her hand. She slowly turned her head, meeting his eyes. He stood over her, his shadow leaving her cold. "C'mon."

She nodded, for the first time agreeing without argument. He took her arm, supporting her weight and helping her off the barstool. The feeling in her head when she stood made her especially dizzy, and she held onto him for support until the room stopped spinning. When he was confident she would not fall down he turned to gather her coat, scarf and hat, leaving her to hold the beer bottle. When he turned, she was already making the trek to the front door and he trotted up close behind her, just to make sure she didn't fall. The blonde was the first to escape the heat of the bar and Freddie emerged close behind. His gaze fell on her form standing close to the curb, staring off into the night. Her arms were drawn across her chest and her once tightly secured ponytail had now come loose and hung loosely at the base of her neck. He just decided to watch her for a while; he didn't really want to interrupt the peace that had settled blanked by the night sky. Eventually he slinked up to her side and pulled gently on her elbow, so she turned to face him. As she did, he wordlessly instructed her to put her arms in the coat and stood close as he buttoned it to the neck. She felt his knuckles graze the tops of her breasts and she grinned lazily. It took all his strength not to meet her eyes. Instead he pulled on her hat and wrapped the scarf around her neck. His lips twisted in concentration as he focused on tying a loose knot. When done, he stood back smiling, to admire his handy work. Sam finally caught his gaze and had a smile on her face that he couldn't quite figure out. It was just another thing he'd put in his Sam Manual.

"Why are you in sweatpants?" she asked suddenly.

"Cos it's 2am Sam," he chuckled.

"And you got out of bed for me?"

He glowered at her. "No, I got out of bed cos I had some barman, yelling at me down the phone about how my girlfriend was drunk and making a show of herself and how I better come get her."

"Well sooorrry," she said, making a face. He rolled his eyes. He would never get any gratitude from this girl no matter what he did. He turned and began to lead her to his apartment.

"You look like a boxer in the sweat pants."

"Huh."

"I like boxers."

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Sam continued to walk unsteadily beside him, occasionally bumping his shoulder with her own. She kept swerving in and out, and even though the streets were empty, Freddie would pull her back to him by her wrist when he thought she was venturing too far away. Her handbag was still slung over his arm, Sam being too preoccupied with the bottle of beer she had brought from the bar.

"Are we nearly there yet?" she whined, bumping into him a little bit harder.

"Yes."

"Why are you being so mean tonight nub?" she asked, glaring at him.

"I'm mean most nights. You just don't notice."

She rolled her eyes and made a face behind his back as he plodded on ahead. "Nerd."

He ignored her and strode purposefully forward. His and Carly's building now in sight, he began fumbling through her disorganised handbag, searching for her spare key. It only dawned on him as the front door swung shut behind him, he left his own on the coffee table. Inside he found an empty bottle of rum and he suddenly felt a little ill. _Why was she drinking so much? _He had always figured that when it came down to it, yes, Sam would be the first try dangerous substances but this he just found puzzling. He knew she was curious, he just never believed she'd be quite this reckless. He stopped at the main doorway, and while not looking Sam marched straight on past, giving the entire neighbourhood her rendition of 'Sexyback'.

"Falling! I'm falling!" he heard her exclaim suddenly. She giggled as she lost her delicate balance and fell backwards onto the pavement, still cradling the ever important bottle of beer. Freddie rushed up behind her. Ok, he may pretend like he didn't give a crap, and sure this was just an annoyance on a school night, but he still didn't want her hurt. There would be a lot of explaining to do to the paramedics. He supported her back and pulled her clean off her feet and into the air, helping regain her upright position once more.

"You alright?" he asked, smiling despite himself.

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied, confused. "Where's my beer?"

He tapped a finger off the bottle in her hand and she looked amused finding it there. He gently tugged her in the direction of his front door, having now successfully found her keys. He rolled his eyes at the handful in his palm. This was going to take a while. He started inserting the coloured tips, hoping that Carly when giving Sam a key was smart enough to make it a little more distinctive than the rest. He noticed her move to the intercom, pressing buttons and reciting the names out loud, so he gave her a gentle warning not to wake anyone.

"Sam, do you know which key gets us in?"

"Pfft!" she waved him off, leaning clumsily on the wall, "Fredwardo I'm so drunk I can't even remember my name and you want me to remember a specific key?"

She kept pressing numbers on the intercom with her free hand, and a woman answered shouting loudly. "Oh hey, Misses Smith of 26b," Sam said gleefully to the intercom.

"Yes?" the woman snapped.

"Could you help us find our key? I can't remember what it looks like?" Sam asked.

"Oh good lord," the woman muttered and responded my slamming down the receiver.

Apparently though Sam had not noticed her intercom companion had hung up and instead proceeded to tell her a tearful story about a boy in school. Freddie gathered from the information given (perhaps a little bit too much at times) Sam was rather willing to sleep with said Boy until she caught him having sex with Jen Linley in the girls bathroom. The feeling in his stomach kind of made him want to hurl all over the pavement. That or have some of her beer. She slumped down against the opposite wall, her face buried in her hands but not making a sound. He sighed, unsure whether asking her if she was ok was going to have him rewarded with a slap. When Sam did dare to venture a glance to see how Freddie was doing with gaining access to the building, she was startled to meet his gaze. He had crouched down beside her, a goofy sympathetic look plastered on his nerd face. God she wanted to slap him. And just as she was about to, she was suddenly taken back by a hand resting on her thigh.

"We'll talk inside ok."

It only took four words. That was it. Then Sam was a blubbering heap, her mascara smearing as tears flowed. A figure exciting the building pulled open the front door and Freddie signalled the man to hold it as he began to gather her things onto her lap.

"Got your handbag?"

"Got my handbag."

"Got your coat?"

"Got my coat."

"Hat?"

"Check."

"Got the beer?"

"Got the beer!" she grinned triumphantly holding said bottle in the air, victorious.

"Righto then Princess Puckett, here goes nothing," he announced before scooping her up into his arms. To his surprise the blonde terror was actually quite light and she was easy to bustle through the door way. He managed to mutter a quick thank you to his helper and Sam caught it, her head bolting upright.

"Thank you!" she repeated in a sing song voice, "Oh! Are you Misses Smith?"

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Freddie managed to kick open his front door, all the while making soft hushing noises at Sam. He had made her promise on the way up that if she was extra quiet going inside, he'd make her a sandwich when they got there. Apparently for a drunk Sam the promise of not only a sandwich, but perhaps some fries as well, would get her to do some very naughty things that Freddie was finding it difficult not to imagine. So she remained quiet as he brought her through to his bedroom and dumped her unceremoniously onto his bed. She hit the springs with an audible thump and winced.

"Damn it Freddork, do you have to be so rough?" she scolded, rubbing a particularly sore spot on her ass.

"Oh I'm sorry baby, I thought you liked it when things got rough between us," he replied, deadpan. "Stay there," he added with a whisper, suddenly realising his mother was just down the hall. She loosened her coat and scarf as he disappeared from his bedroom and glanced around. She'd never been in the dorks room before. It felt oddly intimate and the feeling made her shiver. She started fingering the trinkets and photo frames on his locker, finding some of him and Carly, one of all of them while filming but then paused when she found one of just her strategically placed behind a photo frame. It was a still shot taken by his video camera of her laughing. Just her. Laughing. Alone.

A drunken Sam decided to ignore it. She'd kick the perv's ass tomorrow. She was startled when the bedroom door creaked open and she shoved the photo under his pillow.

"Here," Freddie said, holding out a glass of water and two white pills, "Take it, it'll make you feel better in the morning."

She reluctantly traded her beer for Freddie's more sensible offering.

"So....you were really willing to sleep with this dude huh?"

"Yeah so what if I was Benson?" she spat out, staring down at her water.

"Nothin'," he sighed.

"Yeah better not be."

There was a lengthy pause, where all Freddie could hear was the sound of Sam's soft breathing.

"What does it feel like to be in love with Carly?" Sam asked suddenly, quietly.

He was surprised by the question and stuttered over his response. "I...I don't think I'm in love with her anymore."

"Come on Fudgeface, you got the girls picture on your locker," she snorted, gesturing back to the blue frame. _I have yours there too. _He bit back on the words, his tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek.

"At the time it felt like it would make my day just to see her smile," he grinned, remembering the days when 13 used to be such a complicated and stressful age, "And I loved the smell of her hair."

"Her hair?" Sam laughed. He nodded, glad he could still make the blonde smile.

"Were you in love with him?" Freddie dared. She cocked an eyebrow, her face twisted into a half smile.

"Well we really do have a set of balls tonight don't we Benson?"

She stopped, and played with the rim of her glass.

"I loved the idea of him," she admitted, her voice breaking. Right, if there was one thing Fredward Benson was not good with, it was the idea of an emotional Sam Puckett. It just didn't sit well with him and he truly did not know what to do. Instead, he ignored the fact she had gone eerily quiet, or that little droplets of water fell onto the blue of her jeans.

"Alright there?" he asked awkwardly. She nodded, wiping her nose in the most unladylike fashion. "Where did I put that beer?"

"No more for me," she blanched, pulling her legs to her chest.

"Not for you," he responded by taking a long swig of the now warm alcohol. It tastes like dogs piss in his mouth, but in an effort to remain manly he forced it down.

"Look at you all masculine," Sam teased with a grin. His tongue darted out and she returned the gesture, before fixing her gaze to the wall. Her hair fell over her face in messy waves and Freddie had to ignore his thumping hands which itched to see if it was as soft as it looked. Instead he flopped down beside her, his weight forcing her over just that little bit closer.

"Freddie," she whispered suddenly. "You know how we got our first kiss over by just doing it together?"

"Yeah...."

"Well. What about the whole sex thing?"

He choked. No, he actually physically choked on another mouthful of beer spitting it down his front. He heard Sam roar loudly.

"You should've seen your face dude! Totally priceless," she giggled into her hand.

"You're a bitch," he muttered, his lips pressed to the bottle.

"Yeah and you still love me."

"No."

Another sigh.

"I did love him."

He glanced sideways and her head was bowed again. His hand that he had been trying desperately to control all night disobeyed him once more. He reached out, his fingers twirling in the ends of her blonde hair, pushing it back behind her ear to expose the side of her face. She was frozen solid refusing to look up as he lightly traced a finger down her cheek and along her jaw line, before finally coming to rest on her chin. He nudged her face upwards, forcing her to look at him.

"He wasn't worth it dude."

She forced a smile, before falling backwards onto his bed. Her blue Guns N Roses t-shirt rode up, exposing her toned tummy, and Freddie felt the breath catch in the back of his throat. He had to remind himself not to stare.

"I'm tired," she moaned, tugging drunkenly on her clothes, "And I'm too hot."

"Yeah, well I figure you can stay here tonight and I'll wake you before Mum does my bedroom check at 6am. You take the bed and I take the floor. That ok Sam? Sam?"

Her response was a guttural snore and Freddie rolled his eyes. She was such a lady. He was wary about moving her under the covers, but shook it off and pulled her up to the pillow. Another snore as he sat her upright and her head fell heavily against his chest. Hesitant, his fingers found the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up and over her head. The old fashioned chivalary in him meant he kept his eyes clenched shut as his hand slid down the soft skin on her back, the feeling of her spine beneath his fingers made him shiver. He knew that in the morning Sam would probably kick his ass for stripping her down to her bra, but he wasn't prepared to be kept awake with her groaning in her sleep because she was too warm. He laid her back and pulled the covers to her neck, all the while averting his gaze. When he did finally dare to squeeze open one eye he was met with Sam's misty stare, grinning lazily.

"Wanna tone down the dorky there Benson?" she smirked, "Never seen a bra before?"

"I'm trying to be chivalrous," he retorted, tucking the blanket in around her. Before he was aware of the change in her position he felt Sam's lip lightly graze his, her eyes screwed shut. He kept his open, their lips barely touching. Finally she pulled back, her eyes still shut.

"My prince ladies and gentleman," she whispered before gracefully passing out in his arms. He chuckled, not sure if he had just imagined it and laid her back down, brushing the hair from her face.

"Night Princess Puckett."

That night he fell asleep curled up beside her bed. He kept checking on her every hour just in case, reminding himself every time that he despised her. And even though he did, he still didn't want her to die in a drunken stupor. His mum would have had a lot of questions in the morning if that happened.


	3. In Which Freddie Likes Lions

_**A/N: **Ridiculously short I know, but it's been floating around up there for a while. _

Freddie sits on the sofa beside his best friend. Carly Shay is perhaps one of the least complicated people he knows. He likes it, he's comfortable with her. He thinks that's how he fell for her in the first place. That, and she's very cute. Sam sits on the beanbag on the floor, a mouthful of popcorn, spitting each one out so it falls next to him.

She's aiming for his face but so far can't get the velocity behind it that she needs. His thoughts quickly move to the blonde on the floor, wild eyed and dishevelled. He's pretty sure he sees a twig sticking out of her hair and remembers when she came in her mentioning something about a fight with a bush. The constant spitting noise drives him mad and he suddenly asks if they could compare each other to any animal what would it be, just so he can stop her.

Of course Miss Puckett immediately jokes that he'd be a pig because, quote unquote, he "smells". She smiles proudly, impressed by her own wit. He makes a face and turns to Carly.

"I think you'd be a dog," she grins, ruffling his hair, "You're loyal and cute. Always there."

He frowns slightly. He doesn't want to be a loyal dog. He wants to be something different, something slightly dangerous. He doesn't want to be just dependable, old Freddie. The girls quickly start their own conversation completely unaware that he's not engaging. Carly would be a butterfly, he thinks, watching as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She reminds him of butterfly. Free, calm, gentle. A piece of popcorn hits his cheek and he glowers at Sam. She's cheering, yelling something about scoring. He wants to compare her to something horrible, some slimy little animal like a slug or fly, or something equally as annoying. Instead all he can think is Samantha Puckett reminds him of a lioness. Sure she's aggressive, and she would eat you alive, but she's graceful. Strong with a quiet determination. He knows she has a shitty life, he's not stupid. And he knows she makes jokes to hide how shitty that life is, but on the outside she is strong. She is determined. Sometimes, when he thinks about it (and he doesn't like to think about it too much), he worries about what exactly goes on in that head of hers. He once asked her where she learned to fight. She replied that having a mother who brought home a different man every week required a few defensive moves. He remembers the awkwardness of that horribly honest moment between them. For the first time she looked lost. He remembers how her face changed, visibly shaking it off, and adding something about stopping them stealing her fried chicken. It was a lie but he laughed anyway.

So yeah, she's a lioness. He smiles at that thought, and he's not sure why.

He used to collect lion teddies as a kid. Freddie Benson has always liked lions.


	4. In Which Sam Blushes

_4. I saw a spider, I didn't scream. Cos I can belch the alphabet, just double double dare me....I don't wanna be one of the boys. One of your guys. I just wanna be one of the girls, pretty in pearls, not one of the boys. _

Samantha Puckett is pretty. She is very aware she has a power over the opposite sex, but more than often she uses that power to exert physical pain. She can't help it, it is all she knows. When she sees a boy she likes she immediately tries to impress him with burping contests, rally races and spitting competitions. So that's exactly what she did with Justin West. He was cute in the oh so conventional, dreamy eyed, floppy hair, skinny jeans kinda way. (Thinking back now Sam realises the boy is more than likely gay). She messed with him for weeks – putting off milk in his locker, challenging him to races, punching his arm ridiculous amounts until he could no longer feel it and then the time came. Sam decided she was going to ask him out. She gathered all the bravery she could muster, put on her favourite pair of baggy jeans and Guns n Roses t-shirt, marched right up to him and asked. Her request was met with much laughter from his friends and awkward silence from Justin. She remembers the scene vividly – how he leaned down as if to save her from the already embarrassing situation and told her he thought she was cool but in the guy way. She remembers air getting caught in her throat and her eyes prickling. Sam responded the only way she knew. She kneed him in his groin and walked away.

So that's how she got here, sitting on lawn of her garden, knees to her chest, picking at blades of grass, trying to think of anything else but Justin West. She doesn't like the feeling in her stomach; it's not something she's used to.

"Sup Puckett," a voice comes, a body shadowing over her.

"What do you want Dork?" she snaps, still staring at the grass.

"My Math book back," Fredward Benson states plainly, "You took it from my locker. Carly told me. And I need it for homework."

"I used it for Sniffles."

"Sniffles? Oh god Sam did you put snot all over it?"

"No. Sniffles, she neighbours cat. She's always breaking in through the kitchen window and pooping all over the floor. I used the pages of your book so it was easier to clear up."

"Aw Sam!" he says, exasperated, "What the hell? You really do only think of yourself don't you? Why didn't you just clean it up with your clothes, they've always got crap on them anyway!"

That did it. She stands up and he immediately flinches, throwing his arms up to protect his face. She pulls one punch after the other to his torso until he's on the ground crying mercy.

"Why are you boys all the same huh?" she yells, "You like girls who are all pretty and dress in pink with clean hair and hands! What the hell is that about? Are they fun to hang out with? Can they spit one metre from where they stand? Can they wrestle? Huh?"

"Whoa whoa Sam!" she quickly scrambles to his feet, fending her off by catching her wrists in a vice like grip. "Sam!" With that she knees him quickly and he bends over, writhing in pain. She feels sorry for him for a minute, but only a minute mind you. He kinda had it coming. Boys in general have it coming. She falls back onto the grass, knees back to her chest, chin resting on her arms. She watches as he pulls himself over beside her, still gripping his private parts and wincing as he sits upright.

"Ok. I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve that," he states, groaning a little.

"Oh really? I'm pretty sure you did," she barks, chewing on the sleeve a little.

"What the hells wrong?" he asks, his tone abrasive.

"Boys! I mean I don't get you. Why would you mess about with someone, race them, engage in stupid orange throwing fights, if you don't like them!"

"Erm....I'm pretty sure we haven't done any of that stuff lately."

"Not you dickwad. I mean boys in general. Why do you like pretty girls?"

"I don't," he says, his voice a little odd. She glowers at him.

"Carly?" she reminds him, her eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah well, I don't like Carly cos she's girly or anything. I like Carly cos she's Carly."

"But what makes her Carly? Does she punch you? Kick you? Throw muffins at you?"

"Eh...no. But that's cos Carly's a nice person."

His feeble attempt at a joke doesn't wash well, and Sam looks totally unimpressed. Her lower lip pouts out in a way that makes Freddie want to just reach out and touch it. He visibly shakes it off, and Sam notices.

"You got ticks again Benson?"

"Ok Sam, who's pissed you off?" he asks. He doesn't want to talk in rhyme anymore. This girl takes a lot out of him. Probably, including his ability to have children at some point in the future.

"No one," she mumbles, tracing circles in the grass with her finger, "Someone...Justin."

"Oh," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, "You talked to Carly about it?"

"She's tutoring tonight."

"Oh."

An awkward silence fills the space between them. Freddie doesn't know how to talk about boys with Sam. They've never had that kind of relationship, and besides - he doesn't think he'd like to talk about her boy issues anyway. For a reason he can't pinpoint, he feels weird about it.

"It's cool Fredina," she sighs, "Just go."

He does as she says, standing albeit awkwardly from the searing pain in his groin, but before he walks away something stops him and he turns to look at the blonde sitting in the grass. Her heads down and he notices the wet patches on her sleeves. Freddie Benson doesn't like it when girls cry, even this one.

"So ya know. I wouldn't kiss an ugly girl."

She looks up, her head tilted, curious.

"You are pretty Samantha Puckett, inside and out."

"Aw Benson," she smiles, her tone mockingly sweet, "I think you just made me barf in my mouth a little."

He scoffs, and turns. "Later Puckett."

"Later Dorkazoid."

With that he was gone and for the first time that day Samantha smiles, a blush in her cheeks.


End file.
